


Building Bridges

by surprisepink



Category: Fire Emblem: Soen no Kiseki/Akatsuki no Megami | Fire Emblem Path of Radiance/Radiant Dawn
Genre: Developing Relationship, F/F, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Tellius Week 2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-28
Updated: 2020-08-28
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:40:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26151250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/surprisepink/pseuds/surprisepink
Summary: Jill is still learning to understand Lethe. Some times are easier than others.for Tellius week day 3: forgiveness
Relationships: Jill Fizzart/Lethe
Comments: 4
Kudos: 18





	Building Bridges

Jill had come to appreciate sunsets more after doubt that she’d make it through each day began to grow in her heart. Once, sunsets were simply a sign that the day had ended and that it had come time to enjoy a brief repose before the next day's march. She remembered sleeping easily, proud to be part of the strongest army in the world and confident that she was fighting for what was right.

That was before—well, before everything. Before she’d defected. Before she’d come to doubt everything she ever knew. Before she learned, really learned, about the laguz.

“Laguz”. The shape of the word still felt strange in her mouth, but no longer wrong. At first, it had been a struggle to correct herself. Ike had told her in no unclear terms that avoiding calling anyone a half-breed or sub-human was one of the few unshakable rules of conduct he had for his army, regardless of why she was there or what she believed. Still, she'd thought she'd never be able to commit to the change, not really. Animals were beneath humans and that was a fact, wasn't it?

From the unlikeliest of places, she learned better. Despite her intentions, it quickly became impossible to avoid the half-breeds: Soren had commanded her to keep watch on Lethe from above during battle. The cat fought savagely, all teeth and fangs and with a look in her eyes that told Jill she craved blood. It meant, Soren said behind piles of maps and books, that she would get herself hurt if she wasn't careful. ("And she won't be," Ike added.)

It had all seemed rather silly to Jill—and Lethe, who only glared at them all through the conversation, seemed to agree—but Jill took pride in her ability to follow orders, and so she did as she was told. They fought together but apart, in each other's vicinity but each taking on enemies separately. Until they didn't.

There wasn't anything noteworthy about the particular scuffle when their dynamic shifted. They were in the heat of a battle, Jill staying at shouting distance from Lethe but otherwise leaving her to her own devices. Then from below her came a piercing sound like nothing Jill had heard before, halfway between a growl and a scream. Her instinct was to fly away from such a shrill noise; her training as a soldier forced her to defy that instinct and instead swoop down toward it.

There was Lethe, transformed, with an arrow deep in her side. The sight of a cat-creature bleeding out was a familiar one, just a part of the hunt—only now, it meant that her ally was in danger.

Jill sped toward her, heart pounding. "Turn back!" she called. Suddenly she regretted never practicing flying with Lethe just in case it came down to something like this.

"What?!"

"Trust me!"

Lethe must have realized what Jill meant to do, because she complied, giving herself a moment of vulnerability in the heat of battle as she returned to her human form. Before, watching such a transformation made Jill feel odd, like she had born witness to something that she wasn’t meant to. Now her stomach only churned with concern. Her wyvern reached the ground in an instant, and Lethe was able to climb behind Jill in the saddle, then allowed herself to be carried to safety.

Mist managed the healing, somehow. Jill cringed in sympathy for the both of them as she helplessly watched Mist bandage the wound. She herself had never had quite so close a brush with death, thanks to the heavy armor she wore, but it was easy to imagine how a spear embedded in flesh might feel.

"You came just in the nick of time," Mist said, pinning the bandage in place. "Soren made a good choice, having you two fight together."

"Dumb luck," Lethe muttered.

Her words made Jill see red. "Hey! Is that the way you talk to someone who just saved your life?” The nerve of her, not even acknowledging the risk that Jill put herself at to defend her. "I should have left you there."

"It wouldn't be the first time you let a cat bleed out, would it?" Lethe said, a hint of a hiss in her voice though she was still in her humanoid form.

"That— it's different, we're on the same side now."

"Not very different in your eyes, is it? We're all half-breeds to you."

Disagreeing with her felt wrong. It _was_ different, for more reasons than just because Soren had told them to play nice, but saying as much sounded trite.

"Be nice, you two," said Mist. "Jill, I know you're upset, but you have to be nice to my patients. And Lethe—people can change."

Lethe made a small noise of annoyance. "Archer."

"Huh?"

Anger flashed in her eyes. "You didn't even see it, with your terrible human eyes! There was an archer _right there_ and if I didn't jump in front of him, he would have hit you right out of the sky.” Lethe huffed. “Be grateful. I don’t want to have to explain your untimely death to Ike.”

It hadn't occurred to Jill to put two and two together; she'd assumed that even as she kept one eye on Lethe, the favor hadn't been returned. That Lethe had been fighting purely for sport and had foolishly gotten herself hurt, like a wild animal getting in over her head. Instead, it sounded like she had put herself at risk by choice.

It sounded like she was trying to reach out to her, in her own way.

"Thank you," Jill finally said, ashamed. "I wish you had told me before I got mad."

"I wish you figured it out yourself," Lethe muttered.

And so as Jill continued to fight alongside the laguz, it came to be clear that using such degrading terms was not only a sure way to have disdainful gazes turned in her direction, but it was also _false_.

Would someone who was less than human fly by her side in battle, providing her with the courage and the willpower to move forward at twice her normal pace? Laugh at her gracelessness, reminding her that even the most skilled of wyvern riders were no match for the hawks, their motions in the sky graceful like no human could ever be? Greet her kindly in the mess tent, then promptly forgive her when she dropped her stew on them in shock that a tiger twice her size was speaking to her? (That continued to bring a flush to her face, though Mordecai told her several times to forget about it.)

No, she learned, her unlikely allies may have been different from her in so many ways, but nothing about them was monstrous. It brought her shame to remember that she had so cruelly slaughtered their brethren in the past. That they accepted her nonetheless was a greater kindness than she deserved.

She spoke with Lethe the most, and yet some part of her felt that she understood her the least. The other cats quickly took to communicating with beorc by using their words alone, but Lethe continued to expect them read her moods based on the twitching of her ears, the narrowing of her pupils, the tension in her tail.

(Jill knew this not because she had the insight to realize it herself, but because she’d overheard a conversation one night between beasts.

“Lethe,” Moredcai said, “you must be patient with the beorc. They are trying, but they are not used to the way we speak.”

Lethe hissed at him, but Mordecai did not flinch. It was rather reminiscent of a kitten trying to strike fear into the heart of an unimpressed tomcat. “They need to try harder,” she replied. "When we laguz fight by each other's side, we understand each other's hearts without words. The foolish humans need everything spelled out for them after the battle.")

Jill _did_ try harder, to some avail. She soon came to realize that Lethe was more like the barn cats back home than she had realized: aloof and always on edge when a human came along, yet just as eager for gestures of affection on her own terms as any spoiled housecat. That observation, which Jill had promised herself to never mention to Lethe, helped to make their conversations flow more easily.

They were friends, Jill supposed. Close enough that Lethe bothered to educate Jill on the history she'd missed and seemed to know that Jill believed her. Close enough to shake hands, to share meals, to check in on each other on the battlefield even without being told.

So when Lethe joined her in watching the sun set over camp one night, Jill wasn't terribly surprised, even though Lethe didn’t announce her presence. Even her footsteps were almost silent, though a few twigs snapped in a way that Jill suspected was intentional for the sake of her own dull beorc senses.

That night the sky was a tapestry of pinks, purples, blues: beautiful and humbling. In that moment, Jill felt rather small. It was the same feeling as flying: watching people, buildings, whole towns turn into pinpricks from the back of a wyvern. It was the same feeling as making a mistake and realizing the only thing you can do is dedicate all of yourself to fixing it.

"Hello," Jill said, watching Lethe sit beside her.

Lethe was silent. She could—and did—have entire conversations with only her eyes and the occasional growl. She didn’t _have_ to talk; she could watch the sunset silently.

"Does it still hurt?"

"You ask me that every single time you see me, even months later," Lethe said, frowning. "It was a small wound, I'm fine."

"Mist doesn't seem to think so," Jill replied. And neither did Lethe, judging by the way she still winced if she stretched too far in a certain direction. "Besides, it was my fault."

That seemed to satisfy Lethe. "It does still hurt sometimes, but I'm a warrior. I've had worse wounds."

"Yeah, I get it," said Jill. "It's easier just to ignore them sometimes."

Lethe's expression softened at this, but she chose silence, turning to look at the sky. Her voice when she replied was closer to a purr than a hiss—but closer to still to that of a human being. “It’s pretty,” she said, her tail high, moving to and fro.

“It is,” Jill said, pleasantly surprised that they were still talking. “I didn’t know you liked sunsets.”

Lethe always spoke the beorc tongue simply, with no need to put on airs. “Of course I like sunsets," she said. “Everyone does.”

“Cats do love to watch the sky, don’t they?”

“I’m not staring at it aimlessly all day like a bored pet, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“It’s not that. Your kind, you all seem… well, so connected to nature. Wyverns are like that too.”

“Don’t compare me to your lizard either. I’m nothing like her.”

“No,” said Jill, turning back to the sky to hide the grin on her face. “You’re prettier.”

Simple. Honest. They way Lethe likes. Lethe didn’t have a comeback.

Just as Jill had come to appreciate the way Lethe communicates, she’d come to appreciate her beauty. There was a wildness about her, though she was not the beast Jill once thought she and the rest of her kind were. She fought ferociously, but with an elegance that was unmatched.

Jill was… not envious, the way she sometimes was around other skilled warriors. Rather, she was enraptured.

They were silent for a while without breaking eye contact; Lethe blinked slow. “Look back at the sky,” she said eventually, and, not fully understanding why, Jill obeyed.

Lethe was sitting so very close already, so it was easy for her to scoot just a tiny bit more, near enough to rest her head on Jill’s shoulder. Jill’s heart skipped a beat at the contact, the most she’d ever gotten from a pretty girl. Girls her age called her _skilled_ sometimes, or even _amazing_ , but always in admiration.

She highly doubted Lethe admires her. But she didn’t pity her any longer, that much was clear. It was something else, something that felt like affection.

Laguz touched each other easily, at least the cat tribe. She’d noticed Lethe and Mordecai curl up together for naps in beast form more than once, and it seems to be the way they interact with beorc, too: Muriam carrying Tormod back to camp after particularly exhausting battles, Mordecai casually touching Stefan’s arm when he wants to get his attention. Jill probably shouldn’t think anything of it.

But then Lethe slipped her hand into Jill’s own—a gesture that was so very human.

They sat together until dusk became night, until the sky was inky blue and the stars began to come out. It felt like Jill was holding her breath the whole time. This intimacy was so new, so fragile. If she moved or spoke or even breathed too much, would it shatter?

Lost in her head, Jill barely heard a rumble and only realized when she saw that Lethe was frowning at her that it was her own stomach.

“Did you eat?” Lethe asked. Blunt, but coming from her it almost sounded like doting.

Jill supposed that if something has to break the mood, her own biological needs aren’t the worst thing to do it. “Not enough, I guess. I wonder if we have any leftovers.”

“A shame beorc can’t even hunt their own snacks without making it a whole affair, with dogs and weapons.”

Jill laughed at the image of Lethe on the hunt, an oversized cat on two legs simply plucking an unsuspecting sparrow out of a nest. But she didn’t respond; she couldn’t, because Lethe had pressed her lips against Jill’s.

It was a gesture that had no room for misinterpretation, and when Lethe pulled away she had a sly grin that made Jill feel rather like _she_ was the unsuspecting sparrow.

“Let’s get you back to the mess tent,” said Lethe. “Beorc jerky isn’t really so bad.”

**Author's Note:**

> You can view the rest of my Tellius week works on my new [writing twitter](https://twitter.com/surprisepink_/status/1297510250686418945)!


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